"Not 'Hollywood Independent' - writer John Oak Dalton is the real Real Thing." --Cinema Minima."Very weird and unpopular b-movies and comics."--Blogalicious. "After watching the film I am left to wonder if he had some childhood trauma he is not telling us about."--IMDB user review. "Screenwriter John Oak Dalton wanted to be in Hollywood. Instead, he's in the rustic kitchen above the Germania General Store, stirring a pot of boiling hot dogs."
--The Harrisburg Patriot-News.

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart

Last night I finished a paper on microcinema that I am going to present at an academic conference down in Orlando in a few weeks, only a couple of days behind schedule. I hope people will find it interesting. I about knocked myself unconscious trying to get it together in time.

In blog hits news, I'm worried about the guy who found my site by typing in "left for dead beatings in Orlando" but don't have any sympathy for the person who typed in "John Lenny The Beatles." Thanks again to pulpmovies.com and b-movie.com for hittin' this thang so much lately.

Here's a bit more from RING OF THE SORCERESS, introducing some kung fu. See, I told you there was a little of everything in this one.

DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. WOODS -- AFTERNOON
Peryl, cloaked and carrying a walking stick, makes her way along the path and away from the abbey.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. WOODS -- LATER
Peryl, searching, is framed against various nature scenes.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. ABBEY -- LATER
Silverthorn looks into the distance, the wind ruffling his cloak.
SILVERTHORN
May the gods protect you, Peryl.
Something catches Silverthorn's eye.
Coming toward the abbey are the four swordsmen.
Silverthorn studies the group with a clouded expression, then moves to meet them.
EXT. ABBEY -- MOMENTS LATER
The swordsmen's path is crossed by the crazed seer, now awake from the reverie Peryl put him in. The seer gets on his knees and starts bowing and scraping to Boris.
SEER
All hail the King! All hail the King!
Boris finds some grim humor in this.
BORIS
On your feet, commoner. I am a knight, no king.
SEER
All hail King Blood-Hand!
Boris' face becomes a scowl. Luther kicks the ragged man aside.
LUTHER
Off with you!
Boris does not give him even a backward glance at first; then he stops and addresses his knights.
BORIS
Give him the blade if he opens his mouth again!
The men shoulder past the babbling mystic.
CUT TO:
EXT. ABBEY (COURTYARD) -- MOMENTS LATER
Silverthorn meets the group of knights at the edge of the garden.
BORIS
Stand aside for the Queen's Silent Guard! We seek a female monk called Peryl, suspected of grave robbery and other crimes against the kingdom.
LUTHER
The villagers told us we would find her here.
SILVERTHORN
For a silent guard, you seem to have plenty to say.
BORIS
Our creed is "Deeds, not words." I pray thee, monk, not to test us further.
SILVERTHORN
I have known Peryl since she was a babe in swaddling, and I can assue you she is not prone to grave-robbing or other misdeeds.
BORIS
Be that as it may...stand aside.
SILVERTHORN
I am Master Devlin Silverthorn of Crescent Abbey and the Order of the Crystal Skull...and as such, we stand above the mortal laws of the monarchy.
BORIS
I am Sir Boris Halfmoon of Queen Esme's own Silent Guard...and I would wager my steel against your mysticism.
Silverthorn takes the measure of the rugged knight and nods solemnly.
SILVERTHORN
Sir Boris Halfmoon. Known as Boris the Blood-Handed in some circles.
BORIS
All I have done has been in the name of queen and kingdom.
SILVERTHORN
Mayhaps that belief helps you sleep at night.
BORIS
Whether I sleep restless or deep is of no mind...as I always awake the next morn.
Boris unsheathes his sword.
BORIS (CONT'D)
Sadly, that is not to be your fate.
Several other monks step up behind Silverthorn, glaring at the swordsmen with piercing eyes and firmly-set mouths.
SILVERTHORN
You may find that the humble monks of Crescent Abbey have done more than tend dusty tomes all these years.
With a ROAR, Boris swings his blade at Silverthorn. The monk grabs it between two palms and swings it to the side, sending Boris reeling. He delivers a flurry of blows on the knight as the other monks and swordsmen fall to fighting.
Monks fall under the blades of the swordsmen; but the swordsmen are also falling under the martial-arts moves of the monks.
One monk comes around with a roundhouse kick and sends Luther's teeth spraying in a froth of blood. He drops to his knees, his sword falling from nerveless fingers.
At the forefront of the fray, Silverthorn has grasped a length of branch from the ground and is using it to deflect Boris' blows.
Then Silverthorn goes on offense, beating Boris about the face and neck with the improvised weapon. Blood flows, and Boris becomes enraged.
To his side, the monk Luther has engaged knees his in the face as the knight staggers to his feet. Then the monk grabs Luther by the skull, twisting it suddenly. A sickening SNAP rings out.
Boris catches the end of this gruesome scene, and a cold look comes over his face. He reaches under his cloak and produces a short dagger.
Silverthorn steps back, taking the knight's measure. Boris, cold-eyed, is bobbing and weaving like a coiled snake.
And then he strikes. The dagger finds home in Silverthorn's heart. The monk doubles over, coughing blood.
Boris stands above him, triumphant.
But Silverthorn is looking past him, somewhere beyond.
SILVERTHORN (CONT'D)
(whispers)
Peryl....